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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619581">Celebration</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainsong/pseuds/Rainsong'>Rainsong</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Loose Ends [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Bloodline - Claudia Gray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Black Squadron - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, POV Greer Sonnel, POV Third Person Limited, Past Tense, Post-Star Wars: Bloodline, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Star Wars: The Force Awakens Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:16:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainsong/pseuds/Rainsong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Resistance is on Anoat, a few days after the battle of Crait. When Greer finally gets a chance to process what happened at Starkiller Base and Crait, she does what she always does when she's sad: put on a brave face. This time, Joph intervenes.</p><p>Major character death is what happens in TFA.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joph Seastriker/Greer Sonnel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Loose Ends [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Celebration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a quick note on continuity: I'm working under the assumption that there were 72 hours or less between the battle of Starkiller Base and the battle of Crait, and that those days were stressful, non-stop work, and then the Resistance set up on Anoat a few days after they fled from Crait (and had a bit more resources than just the <i>Falcon</i>, namely Black Squadron). So this would really be the first chance anyone got to process what happened.</p><p>Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakukajas">rakukajas</a> for being my beta reader for this one!</p><p><b>Trigger warnings:</b> Mention of fictional illness (bloodburn) and its symptoms, mention of war, mourning of canonical major and minor character death, grief.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>General Organa had suggested she take some time off to mourn and process, after all that happened at Takodana, Ilum, D’Qar, and Crait. “Do what you need to do,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, Karé Kun’s X-wing was what Greer Sonnel needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anoat wasn’t anything to write home about. It was mostly garbage, ruins, and clouds of toxic fumes, some of which were flammable. Even inside the sealed cockpit, Greer had taken the precaution of wearing a filtration mask. But all that mattered was that there was room to fly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greer hadn’t flown a starfighter in months, and even then, it had just been short-range transport. Not that she was planning on leaving atmosphere today—but the drone of the engine and the hiss of the air around her was enough to drown out her worries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or so she had hoped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In reality, all it did was remind her of the last time she had flown a starfighter like this, just for fun. It was with Crystal Cairn—her last race. She hadn’t wanted it to end, knowing she would turn in her gear and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ossifrage</span>
  </em>
  <span> for good once she landed. She sold it to Daya Wynter, Captain Solo’s pick from that year’s Gauntlet and her protégée before she joined Princess Leia’s staff. Daya was a clever kid, and she treated her ships like family. She and her droid R0-N4 flew the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ossifrage</span>
  </em>
  <span> for years after. The last Greer had heard of her, she was still competing in the Five Sabers. She didn’t know what she was up to these days—surely not competing, since the war had started. She hoped she was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If the First Order got a hold of Daya and my ship, </span>
  </em>
  <span>then</span>
  <em>
    <span> I might cry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Karé’s X-wing was nearly as much fun as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ossifrage</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though. It handled well and maintained its speed beautifully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anoat, too, had some kind of beauty to it, Greer admitted. She let herself climb to the sub-atmosphere, where she could see the strange clouds that covered the planet’s surface. There were white and gray, like most planets, but also orange, brown, and yellow-green. They were surely made of toxic fumes and acid rain, but they were beautiful to look at. They reminded Greer of an abstract painting that used to hang in Princess Leia’s office on Hosnian Prime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inevitably, thoughts of racing and of her time as a senatorial staffer brought back thoughts of Captain Solo, and she was right back where she started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greer started narrating the sights to herself, anything to drown out the painful thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Head back down to get your bearings, don’t stay high too long or you’ll start to get headaches. There you go. Bank right around the ruined tower, loop back towards base. Don’t go too far, Sonnel,” she reminded herself. “Swing past the canyons, maybe I’ll see a pit beast. Or just toxic fog. That’s fine, too. Following the slime river back upstream…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anoat wasn’t so pretty from this level.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greer had promised Karé she wouldn’t be gone for more than an hour, so she landed with five minutes to spare. She touched down smoothly and taxied the X-wing to its hangar (or what passed for a hangar on this makeshift base), next to the rest of Black Squadron’s ships.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d it go?” asked Karé, as Greer exited the starfighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. You’ve got a great ship. Thank you for letting me borrow it,” said Greer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem. Thanks for taking care of it. You wanna join us for a drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greer was about to say no, but she realized that if she went straight to her bunk, all she would do was worry. So she accepted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To Captain Solo!” said Snap Wexley, raising his glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain Solo!” echoed the group, but Greer knew she wasn’t being very convincing in her celebration.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is meant to be a celebration of his life, not a funeral,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she told herself, but not even Corellian brandy could shake her mood. All she could think about was the first time she had met Solo, at the Gauntlet, and how he had taken her under his wing—metaphorically and literally. They would often sit like this, a group of pilots and mechanics around a table, celebrating a victory and poring over the details of a race. Whether they won or lost, Solo would inevitably say it was the greatest race he had ever seen, and sometimes she almost believed him. He was the first person she told about her bloodburn diagnosis, and Greer could have sworn it hurt him more than it hurt her when she retired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, Greer?” asked Joph Seastriker. He was still in his flight suit, back from a reconnaissance run with what was left of Blue Squadron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Just sad,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew Captain Solo well, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was like a second father to me,” said Greer, to her glass. She downed the rest of it without a flinch, and caught Jessika Pava’s eye as she put down the glass. Wordlessly, Jess poured her another drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karé said you took her X-wing out today,” pressed Joph. “How was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was amazing,” said Greer, and she wasn’t hiding her feelings on this matter. “I miss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me know next time you go for a joyride, I’ll join you,” said Joph.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt it’ll happen again. We need to save as much fuel as we can,” said Greer. “I don’t know why I even did it. It didn’t really help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help with what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgetting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joph looked at her for a moment, and smiled a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t forget that quickly,” he said. “When someone dies, they get you for a long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joph’s right,” said Karé, leaning into their conversation. “I still can’t believe that L’ulo is gone, sometimes. Hell, back at Grail City, I almost called Suralinda ‘L’ulo’ because she’s flying an A-wing like he did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s encouraging,” said Greer flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It takes time to heal,” said Joph. “But it gets better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re in this together. We all lost people on Hosnian Prime and Ilum,” said Karé. Greer’s grip on her glass tightened. She hadn’t even thought…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Korrie,” she said, her throat suddenly dry. Joph put a hand on her arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was on Hosnian Prime. I briefed her on that mission myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was just a kid,” said Joph. She was no longer the teenage intern she had been when they had met, but Korr Sella was still so young in Greer’s mind. And she would never get to be older.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” said Greer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She left the table, not bothering to check if anyone noticed. They probably didn’t—Chewbacca was in the middle of a grand tale of some recent adventure of his and Captain Solo’s, translated just as enthusiastically for those who didn’t speak Shyriiwook by Snap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greer found herself on the other side of the hangar, behind a wall of ammunition crates, and finally allowed herself to slump against it, out of sight of anyone. Tears rolled down her cheeks. It had taken all of her energy to keep them from doing so while at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Captain Solo. Korrie. All those great pilots. None of them are going to see the end of this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greer,” said a voice. She didn’t look up; she knew it was Joph. She didn’t answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat beside her, leaning his head against the crates. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but whatever it was, the words didn’t come. He sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I say about feeling sorry for me?” sniffed Greer, wiping her tears on her sleeve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was about the bloodburn. This is different,” said Joph.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greer had to give him that. Joph had always respected her boundaries. He had never told anyone about her illness, nor had he ever tried to tell her what her limits were. He trusted her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I trust him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No one else has ever seen me cry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every instinct told her to pull herself together and hide the tears, but something tugged at her to be vulnerable. Just this once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>miss</span>
  </em>
  <span> them, Joph,” she said, and her voice cracked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joph’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. She let herself sink into him, and the sobs came. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried like this. It must have been when she was a teenager herself—younger than Korrie. Certainly, she had never cried like this in front of anyone since she was a child. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joph just held her. He didn’t say anything, but after a while, Greer noticed that her hair was damp. He was crying, too. Of course he would. He had lost friends, too. Most of his squadron, in fact. She wanted to berate herself for being selfish and not comforting </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the sensitive one, but she was too overwhelmed to calm down properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what felt like an eternity, Greer’s sobs slowed down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you,” said Joph softly, stroking her hair. That almost threw Greer into another round. Instead, she used what strength she had to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry for being such a wreck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be sorry. You’re allowed to be sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone else seems to be handling it so well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone else probably cried their hearts out last night,” pointed out Joph. “You’re not the only one who hides their feelings, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell anyone,” she said, some of her defensiveness returning. She pulled herself upright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not. I’ve got your back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greer knew he did. He had since before they had joined the Resistance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting up, Greer could see Joph’s face in the dim light of the hangar. His face was damp from his own tears, highlighting the just-healed scar on his nose. Greer would never have told him, but it made him look handsome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The few years they had been with the Resistance had aged them. There were faint wrinkles on Joph’s forehead, far too early in his life, and there was a darkness behind his blue eyes ever since he had nearly died on an espionnage trip two years ago. That trip had also earned him a scar on his shoulder and a tremor in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greer, too, had aged, but she didn’t notice it as much. It had been more gradual. There were the occasional silver hairs, a stiffness in her back, and the constant haze of fatigue around her. She was never sure how much of it was stress and how much of it was bloodburn; Doctor Kalonia kept telling her to slow down, either way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” said Greer. “For coming to find me. And for being my friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” said Joph. Greer noticed a flash of something across his face when she said “friend.” Something painful. She knew it wasn’t that he didn’t consider her a friend, so what was the alternative?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greer…” he said, at a loss for words again. He still had a hand on her shoulder, and he tentatively took a strand of her loose hair between his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where before every instinct had been to hide herself away, suddenly something switched, and she was filled with the adrenaline that came with taking a risk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greer kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the greatest kiss Greer had ever had, though it was certainly the dampest. When she pulled back to catch her breath, Joph held her close, pressing his forehead to hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, he kissed her again.</span>
</p>
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